Aaron Glasson, the interdimensional traveler.

By Ricardo Quezada.

Aaron Glasson en Mextonia PC: YoshiTravel

They say that the fluttering of a butterfly is enough to cause a hurricane on the other side of the ocean, this idea coming from the chaos theory is frightening and irremediably beautiful. Within the complexity and grandeur of the universe, we as humanity are a particle within an immensity but, as they draw ever closer to the earth, these small particles begin to acquire a fundamental role as butterflies flapping at the same time.

Everything we do and stop doing has a huge impact on the place where we develop and therefore in the short or long term will have a huge impact on the whole planet and therefore on humanity. In our time, transcending separation is one of the fundamental missions for anyone who wants to understand its role in the world and in nature; for artists like Aaron Glasson, this understanding is manifested in each of his actions and above all in his particular way of seeing the world through each of his works…

Aaron Glasson en Mextonia PC: YoshiTravel

Born in New Zealand, Aaron’s studio work and installations have been exhibited around the world, in places such as the MOTAT and Spoke Art Gallery; in magazines such as Juxtapoz and HI Fructose; in festival walls such as Sea Walls by Pangea Seed Foundation, of which he is also creative director; and in Mextonia, produced in Tallinn by Nueve Arte Urbano.

Stand For Standing Rock.Vía aaronglasson.com

Characterized by a vibrant style and in deep contact with nature, Aaron Glasson’s artivism takes up the most essential aspects of the human spirit and ennobles them by interacting it with its environment, creating pieces that highlight the ethnic, cultural and endemic qualities of a region, developing a sincere and cataclysmic discourse of what is to come if we do not change the way we do things, portraying what is to come if we do not change the way we do things.

TRANSCENDING SEPARATI☯N de Celeste Byers y Aaron Glasson                         VIA aaronglasson.com

Beyond the works of art, the best way to know the perception of an artist is through his raw works, which are developed in a direct way, without trial and without corrections, in this sense, the sketches of Aaron Glasson tell the story of a person who is not only in contact with nature, but with his spirituality and his humanity, being the harmony between all the above, a quality that allows him to find inspiration throughout the world around him and take action in the form of different manifestations: from sketching to the wall, easel, installation or video; changing the universe from its small trench as a revolting particle whose reach and impact are unlimited.

SK-TCHBOOK 21 Vía aaronglasson.com

Artivism of Aaron Glasson will be present in Querétaro during the Seawalls Urban Art Festival of Nine Seawalls Water is One, from March 27 to April 17,2018 in Querétaro.

You can learn more about Aaron’s work at:


Video: Women of Kihnu by Yoshi Travel


How to attack a war tank

By Ricardo Quezada.

Like the flame in a torch, the orange paint burned on the tip of the brush held by a small hand; then with a delicate and graceful movement, the transforming weapon kissed for the first time the smooth and cold surface of the iron plate that made up the machine’s shell, making it lose its immaculate and locked in time.

First Strokes. Photo By M.Cooper.

With more energy than any explosion, a small line was enough to break an afternoon of August 21,1991 that had been preserved for posterity in the form of a war tank and snatched it back to the present, to the reconstructed nation celebrating 100 years of freedom, to independent Estonia.

Painting on the tank- Photo by M. Cooper.

Witness of countless golden sunsets, the machine received its first treatment of the new reality to separate itself from the past and make way for the future. Soon another stroke interrupted the olive green of the camouflage making the machine more visible and exposed. Inevitably more colors flitted on his metallic spine, led by many small hands that took him by storm and flitted around him like swallows claiming a tree.


Tank 3 Photo By Yoshi Travel

The lines gave way to shapes, figures and names, in a few hours a multicolored revolution filled each recess and fold with armour. When the sun began to fall lazily on the horizon, the laughter filled the playground and the children climbed on the military beast with their naïve faces filled with the authentic happiness that gives hope to youth. Their Early age did not allow them to understand at that time their conquest, but for their parents, who accompanied them in the company and helped them by taking them by the waist to climb the armoury, filling the olive field of the tank with crazy tones meant much more, the gift of their children was not only their happiness, it was the confirmation that they lived in a free country.

They, who lived in a different Estonia where the voices did not echo and the color of the ideas peaked in the face of oppression, were the parents and grandparents of the new generation and in their tired smiles was perceived a happiness still infantile, as they lived it a little more than 20 years ago when their hands intertwined with those of a million and a half people to form the Baltic chain that travelled Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia with the

The action of people intertwined along 600km served to raise the voice of the people and contributed to the events that caused the political pressure of perestroika against communist conservatism to forge the night of August 19 in Moscow when the coup d’ état that sought to eliminate the desire for freedom of communist states was called.

The Baltic Chain, photo from Estonian Popular Front www.rahvarinne.ee/

The Baltic Chain, photo from Estonian Popular Front www.rahvarinne.ee/
While in the capital, the echo of Moscow, a radio station was taken by the KGB, it was civilians who spread the word about the coup d’ état and more importantly the news that a military column was heading for the western border of the USSR. Army units took over the roads and streets of the Baltic brother countries. At nightfall, strategic points of Latvia and Lithuania such as television and radio antennas had fallen into the possession of the Russian army but in Estonia, a handful of citizens bravely armed to defend democracy, barricaded themselves in the Tallinn Tower, a 314-meter-high titan that was created to broadcast the sailing events during the 1980 Moscow Olympics.

Scared but with the firm conviction of protecting Estonia’s communications with other countries outside the block, civilians placed small matchbooks to lock the elevators and prevent the army from gaining access to the tower’s facilities. With the country being a witness and several tanks of war waiting at the base of the building, the Estonian heroes resisted the threats of the army and when the coup d’ état failed during the night of 20 August, Estonia’s supreme council announced that they would once again be an independent nation, at that time the tank resting in front of the tower, lost its war property and became a witness to the rebirth of a nation. The next day, the coup d’ état failed.



20 years later, the children smile with their parents as they paint the future of their country. Estonia celebrates its independence together with the locos who emigrated 9,640km from Mexico for the Mextonia festival. The tank is still there, in the atrium of the space needle guarded by an alien who invites the children to take possession of it, because it is theirs, as if it were theirs.

Photo by Yoshi Travel

Mextonia blue deer

Have we considered that giving a fragment of ourselves can truly illuminate the world and the reality of others? We have, therefore, created Mextonia.

Not only as a festival, but as a collective work of art, consisting of 52 murals inside the walls of Tallinn, Narva, Viljandi and Tartu. A reminder that it makes us proud to be Mexicans, or Estonians, and even better, what unites us beyond our nationalities: our cultural freedom. Our responsibility to make this place, or world, a better place than how we find it.

In Mexico, searching in the toughest places but with wisdom, an open heart and soul can lead you directly to the Blue Deer. In Estonia, this same path leads to the fern flower. Like the Elk rune of Nordic cultures,”Blue Deer” represents prosperity, protection and fertility, embracing all sentient beings, brothers of Mother Earth and Father Sun. Both generous horned animals sacrifice themselves, giving their own flesh to feed us all.

Immersed in today’s contemporary world, in our endless race for wealth, consumption and competitiveness, Mextonia was a gift to remind the world of the Spirit of a collective soul in the form of the Blue Deer, which finally found a Fern Flower.

Mextonia’s Blue deer

Have we considered that giving a fragment of ourselves can truly enlighten the world and reality of others? We have. Therefore, we created Mextonia.

Not only as a festival, but as a collective piece of art, composed by 52 murals within the walls of Tallinn, Narva, Viljandi and Tartu. A reminder of what makes us feel proud of being Mexicans, or Estonians, and even better, what unites us beyond our nationalities: our cultural freedom. Our responsibility of making this place, or world a better place than how we found it.

In Mexico, searching through the harshest places but with wisdom, an open heart and soul, can lead you directly to the Blue Deer. In Estonia, this same path leads to the fern blossom. Just as the Elk rune of the Nordic cultures, the Blue Deer represents prosperity, protection and fertility, embracing all sentient beings, siblings of Mother Earth and Father Sun. Both generous horned animals sacrifice themselves, giving their own flesh to feed us all.

Immersed in today’s contemporary world, in our never ending race for wealth, consumption and competitiveness, Mextonia was a gift to remind the world about the Spirit a collective soul in the shape of a Blue Deer, in finally finding a Fern Blossom.



Inspirado parcialmente en dos manifiestos redactados por Siqueiros, y firmados en su primera versión por Rivera y Orozco entre otros, el primero publicado en México en la revista “El Machete” de junio de 1924 y el segundo en Buenos Aires, en el diario “Crítica” de junio de 1933.


Artistas, escritores de graffiti, productores, gobiernos y ciudadanos: Estamos trabajando en todo el mundo para impulsar un movimiento de la plástica monumental para las calles y las urbes, creando piezas simbólicas de gran formato en los espacios comunitarios donde conc

urre el tráfico del público, haciendo de ellas un elemento de catalización cultural, hacia la felicidad.



Definimos Cultura como el entramado de significados y símbolos que conecta a los individuos entre sí y en sociedad. En consecuencia damos al muralismo transgrafitero el propósito de catalizar la cultura, mediante el arte urbano, hacia el bienestar colectivo, la prosperidad, la paz y la felicidad; misma que definimos como “el deseo de sonreír”. Abogamos por la integración de las distintas culturas, micro-culturas, etnias e individualidades, en un enjambre humano de composición fractal y sabiduría intercultural, reconociendo su capacidad natural para auto organizarse, entre el orden y el caos.

Buscamos que cada acto creativo, en cada proyecto, cumpla siempre con cuatro resultados simultáneos: ambientales, sociales, culturales y económicos. Participamos al aprendiz en cada paso del proceso creativo, ligando experiencia con enseñanza teórica. Integramos al artista individual a procedimientos colectivos, a la inteligencia de enjambre y a la organización fractal. Aprovechamos cualquier avance tecnológico, empleando materiales y herramientas contemporáneos, para llevar el poder de símbolo cultural al arte urbano: de la mente colectiva al muro y de ahí al mundo digital, para alcanzar públicos globales. Usamos la realidad virtual y la inteligencia artificial a fin de explorar los nuevos linderos de la experiencia humana, pero siempre ligando la obra ultramoderna con las tradiciones étnicas ancestrales y los ideales sociales. Actuamos para fortalecer la salud de nuestros ecosistemas promoviendo la consciencia de unidad y respeto por la Naturaleza. Nos sostenemos autónomos mediante el emprendedurismo social y el respeto por la ley.

 Comprendemos que la creatividad tiene un propósito, que en salud se alinea con el propósito de la vida, hacia el bienestar individual y colectivo. En el mundo de hoy existen millones de jóvenes que se expresan mediante la pintura, creando y escribiendo en muros, desarrollando talentos y visiones, influyendo en la sociedad mediante el símbolo, la audacia y el respeto a convicciones propias. Comienzan escribiendo su nombre para identificarse con su espacio y les llamamos grafiteros. Crecen, acumulan conocimiento, emprenden un camino transpersonal que los inspira al cambio, a pintar metáforas, a transfronterizarse, y les llamamos ahora transgrafiteros. Descubren que su creación, personal o transpersonal, influye en la calle y en la cultura barrial. Se vuelven un trasunto urbano del chamán; produciendo sortilegios callejeros. Son potencialmente los líderes culturales del barrio. Este enjambre de jóvenes, jamás imaginado por Siqueiros, es hoy la encarnación del propósito de la creatividad plástica: crear un mundo mejor.  Esto es Transgrafiti.

URBANICA I: The Children of the Forest. By Ricardo P. Quezada

By Ricardo Quezada Based on the work of Tania Quezada for La Novena de Nueve Series.

I grew up with my grandmother, in a modest house near the hill of the cross in Amealco. It is not necessary to highlight, but we lived in a very modest way and one of the daily activities was going to the forest to get twigs to light a fire. For me it was a little annoying to have to walk the trails in search of fallen branches because my grandmother wouldn’t let me cut logs, she said that everything was part of a whole and that we couldn’t devastate a tree without thinking that on the other side of the hill, Don Octavio the lumberjack was going to cut down another one. I remember that she would sit on her legs and explain to me -He cuts the wood, it’s his work and we plant mushrooms, that’s ours, if we all cut down a tree on each side of the hill without thinking about what others do, little by little we would eat the hill a bit and die of cold. In the same way, if the lumberjack sows mushrooms, we would be stuffing ourselves with mushrooms all year round and we couldn’t eat them any more because we would be full of flavor, that’s why it’s important to respect everyone’s work, so we’re all happy, working together, like the birds that cut the air to be able to fly more easily. At that age I listened to everything, but to remove any kind of disbelief I ended the story with -Thus the creatures of the forest leave us alone and will not make us mischief.

During my whole childhood I lived a little bit afraid of those things, so I never dared to contradict her, but when I grew up it was different, we were doing a little better thanks to the money my parents sent us from the other side. Suddenly we had gas in the house and no longer needed to buy wood although my grandmother kept buying logs from the lumberjack; I did not understand why, she said that the nixtamal did not cook the same in the stove.

Every morning she would walk about five kilometers to the church of San Juan Dehedó where she would go to Mass or pray and come back with corn and wood, as she was an old woman I always scolded her and told her not to carry such heavy things, but she was stupid, foolish.

By that time I had my first beard and moustache, which meant that I was already a man. I took the axe and went out one morning to cut down the biggest tree I could find, of course at two axes the titan of wood m

it turned out to be too much for me. So I was hitting all the trees with axes, looking for one that would curl before my strength, until I found a small and young pine tree, about my age, barely taller than me. I hit him and the log snapped real fast, like when you twist a chicken’s neck. I tied a rope around my waist and walked home, but I never found her. It was a road that I knew by heart, I walked it hundreds, I say millions of times and yet I was fucking lost.

When it was night I heard giggles and I began to fear for my life, I sought refuge in the forest but everything seemed terrifying to me, I could not enter any cave or hide in the niche that is formed in the trunk of the trees because from there came the noises. I walked for hours and hours, and well into the night a little song sounded and I saw the light of a fire in the distance; I approached being as quiet as possible and I saw several children with the face of an animal dancing around the fire, like chaneques or nahualitos. I was very frightened, but before I could run away, they were already seeing me, they started to approach me and in an outburst of terror I told them that I had brought a tree to warm us all up, I dragged the tree to the campfire and the creatures sang to me – Here… here nothing is wasted, here everyone sings, here everyone dances – and they began to sing – A palpable leap from the North for the challenges ahead, another to the east for what has just begun and all that is born, two turns of buttocks and with the face resting to the west for what is asleep and a lot of jumps because the south is warm and lively – then they laughed and began to improvise again -Muchacho, boy, pig-face, got lost in the grove because he was walking like a ufano, now he has to dance and dance, otherwise in the cold it’s going to freeze – again laughter and more dancing. The tree began to burn very strongly and they wouldn’t let me stop, or stop dancing until six hours later the tree had finally burned. When the fire went out, the creatures disappeared in mockery and laughter – Look at her legs,”said the raccoon girl as her voice was lost in the forest like a dream that left me with blistering soles of my feet and cramped legs. I walked back, I didn’t say anything to my grandmother, she just laughed when she smelled my smoky clothes.

I’ve never seen them again, I’m very respectful of the forest, but once I heard a hunter tell a story – I’d been hunting.